


Dr Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Embrace Humanity

by Cyrelia_J



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Culture Shock, Light Angst, M/M, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 00:05:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13558458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyrelia_J/pseuds/Cyrelia_J
Summary: An experiment in human sexuality yields some rather unexpected results between two unlikely subjects. Skywarp encounters Hook late one night in the lab and finds himself coming back welcome or not.Not exactly sticky or spark but some strange hybrid of the two





	Dr Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Embrace Humanity

**Author's Note:**

> This has been up on ff.net forever and I finally got around to posting it here. I still like this story enough that I thought it might warrant a share to some who might not have already read it though it's probably long since made the rounds. Anyway, I like to experiment with different ideas and concepts and the "what if"ness of this was too hard to resist. I also like exploring alien cultural things and differences and this was the result of that as well so enjoy!

The first night he encountered the black and purple seeker in the laboratory he was too stunned to be properly angry. When their internal chronometers read the hour as midnight their kind were usually in recharge. They had grown accustomed to a certain cycle, their systems defragging, processors at rest in the early morning hours. Of course these could be rerouted and overwritten, but the Constructicons especially preferred the structure, a particular ritual whenever possible. Although in a way this too was part of his own compulsive mania, he thought wryly as he stood in front of the large terminal prior to the seeker’s untimely interruption. 

 

His gestalt mates had dismissed the design instantly as flawed and impractical: hardly beyond their abilities should they choose to apply their combined intellects, and yet why would they? On the large screen in front of him was the modeling program, and tonight, as every other he stood there, visored visage locked onto the dual screens. Next to the sophisticated mock up of angles and complex equations was the mystery to be solved: a rather simple drawing by a human named Escher.

 

As was the custom amongst their contingent, the constructicons had, upon awakening on Earth, begun intelligence gathering. Hardly for the purpose of the cause - although whenever Megatron questioned that was exactly as they presented it - they had spent the first few years of their earthen sojourn downloading, sifting through various texts and library archives for whatever undiscovered engineering, mechanical, and chemical treasures they could uncover. In the corner sat Mixmaster’s prototype for an intelligent plastic explosive compound, alongside a vial of home brewed high grade. One was red, the other one orange. Hook had often bemoaned the careless lack of labeling. 

 

_“I got a system for this slag,”_  he’d answered to the rather reasonable protest and Hook couldn’t help but vent a puff of hot air at the memory.

 

He’d always felt rather distant from the other five constructicons and yet he was closer to them than any other in the army. Rather sad really, he thought with a downward glance and a shake of his head. Ah, but that was the price of genius, was it not? to be isolated because of one’s capability, one’s brilliance. Drawing himself up a little more, the arrogant crane allowed himself a brief respite to wander to one of the observatory windows. Often shaded in space to protect from any light that might permeate the delicate experiments, under the dark and seemingly endless ocean it was now open. The occasional sea creature flitted by, attracted against all instinct to the light from within it had never seen before. It calmed him, looking out at-

 

He felt an unpleasant crawling sensation, a resonation in the room. It was a decepticon energy signature to be sure, and slowly, strangely silent, he turned and observed the mech at the other end of the room. Skywarp had teleported in slyly, chuckling softly, and Hook couldn’t help but raise a brow ridge at the sheer single mindedness to not even see his fellow standing there in the dark end of the lab. The trickster was carefully swapping out the chemist’s two experiments, thoroughly pleased with his puerile thuggery. Strangely enough, Hook felt himself disinclined to do more than observe the complete audacity. And when he finally regained enough of his senses to protest, he instead said nothing as the jet turned, smug, cocky, the epitome of a filthy flyboy, clearly looking right at him. Hook cocked his head, curious, arms crossed, and in that wild moment it seemed as if an understanding passed between them. Skywarp raised a finger to his crooked grin in a quirky human gesture before teleporting out and the engineer could do naught but return the smile. 

 

 

The second night he encountered the black and purple seeker in the laboratory as Mixmaster lay offline on one of the berths recovering from a rather nasty... “accident”. He stared up at the screen, clicking to himself softly in his own native language. The rest of them had become so accustomed to the “musical” human jabber, it was all he ever heard anymore. Gone were the beeps and clicks he so loved to hear.

_“It’s so much more expressive, don’t you think?”_ Scrapper had asked him, and he found himself disappointed in the closest thing he had to a friend in that moment. Ah, but that was how he like dit: quiet and isolated. He continued to talk to himself as he worked, the rendering coming close but not quite making it.  _“Sentinel Prime in the garden...”_  he spoke softly to himself, the familiar covert signal of the war began innocently enough, and he found himself spouting out any meaningless nonsense for company.

He tensed, feeling the familiar energy signal and his head shot up abruptly as the seeker answered without missing a beat in the old tongue.

_“He ain’t gettin’ no pardon,”_  Skywarp finished with a cocky grin. The engineer smiled in spite of himself. 

 

“You hid your energy signal this time,” he observed turning back to the screen. Skywarp laughed softly as  he wandered around the rest of the lab doubtlessly looking for something else to mess with. 

 

“Wasn’t sure who I’d run into,” He said leaning over Mixmaster’s prone form surveying his handiwork.

 

“I was wondering who it was who ruined my atomic model a few decacyles ago...” he said strangely calm. His focus remained on the screen in front of him. “Rest assured, I’m the only one online at this hour in the lab.”

 

“Good,” Skywarp said, seeming slightly more at ease. “Don’t think Scrapper likes me very much.”

 

“That’s because you’re an insufferable, sophomoric dullard,” the constructicon answered without missing a beat. Perhaps the human languages did have their finer points.

“S’good for the insults, isn’t it?”the seeker replied as if reading his mind. He leaned against the console. “Don’t think there’s a good way to say ‘cocksucker’ in the old mother tongue.”

 

“Dare I ask,” Hook answered blandly, “What that even means?” Skywarp opened his mouth to reply and the constructicon held up a hand in warning. “Spare me the tasteless diatribe on hominid sexuality...” His shoulders slumped in annoyance at the blank expression. Perhaps the idiot ought to spend more time learning more sophisticated vocabulary and less on boorish witticisms.

_“I don’t care about human interfacing,”_ he clarified absently slipping into the familiar and comfortable electronic language. It was far more concise and pleasant to the auditory receptors anyway.

 

Far too full of excess energon to stay idle, the jet couldn’t help but meander around the rest of the lab touching everything he could find. Hook found himself unusually distracted and was about the lambaste the other for his thoughtless pawing when he noticed just how... solicitous and carefully he handled the instruments and experiments.

“So what’s all that?” the seeker asked looking up at the large screen. “Buckethead askin’ you to do something special? Some big ‘bot crushin’ machine?”

 

He was still at the question, shutting the large computer down instead. 

 

“It’s late,” he said not answering the question. The idiot wouldn’t understand the maddening obsession, the drive, the unquenchable hunger for that unattainable perfection... Primus his own gestalt mates didn’t half the time and Bonecrusher’s ideal was even the complete opposite of his own. Speaking in agreement only in abstracts, the conversations often turned to spirited debates which were nice in their own way but... He shook his head. “The hematite specimens on the far table have some interesting magnetic properties,” he offered, wondering if his logic circuits hadn’t been compromised by the lateness of the hour.

 

Skywarp’s answering grin was brilliant and he found himself looking just a moment longer than he should before exiting.

 

 

The third night he encountered the black and purple seeker in the laboratory he found himself looking down at the prone body with an almost affectionate smirk. The other’s pain receptors had been turned off by his own skilled hand. There was silence, the mech offline in recharge and Hook couldn’t hide the amusement. 

 

“Of course, even my superior deductive skills would never have reasoned out you humiliating Lord Megatron in front of the entire army,” he said almost fondly as he entered the data into the repair log of the much smaller secondary terminal. His sense of humor was normally far more sophisticated, but even he had to laugh at the memory stored in his data banks. Of all the asinine things he allowed to be wiped and reformatted, he knew he’d save that one moment when the mighty titan spun in circles on the dais, shrieking and firing madly as the small black stones “attacked.”

Perhaps when he solved this far more pressing matter, he could turn his attention to that mystery as well. How could one affect such brilliance for those inane purposes without even realizing it. 

 

“Such a waste,” he muttered, a sour expression at the feel of the glossa thick in his oral cavity. The sacrifices they made for the ease of human speech: altered vocal processors, the alien glossa on the interior palette, those strange denta, and the words oh the words. He found them fascinating at first and in a way far more useful than their own logic based language. But in the end... that’s all they were. Words. Sticky, lip components moving, wet, unpleasant words. He looked over the seeker’s form, hands on the flat berth. 

 

Their race was far from a tactile one, the most intimate of relations reserved for a fleeting contact between cables, and in the most trusting of moments, the access codes were shared and there was not even so much as a caress involved in the shared pleasure. As he looked down over the primary form of what their race considered the epitome of aesthetic perfection he couldn’t help but consider what it would be like to... touch, to shake hands, to embrace. To engage in far beyond fighting or ritual.

 

It was madness, he thought, as he reached out, his cerebral processors an utter mess, the conflicting commands causing his entire arm to tremble. But really, what was in a touch? He held his datapads, his fingers easily danced over the console, he repaired hundreds if not thousands of mechs in his lifetime and yet... he never really...

 

He stopped, cursing inwardly at his own foolishness, drawing back. Perhaps he was spending too much time alone. Perhaps he’d isolated himself far too much from his fellows. Another venting snort. Fellows; the boorish cretins he’d allied with out of necessity were hardly fellows. One day he might engineer his own master race and leave this unimaginative lot behind. He found his thoughts flickering back again to the genius display of trickery and he couldn’t help but feel a fondness towards the seeker in that moment. Ah, but hadn’t Starscream already proven the error there. Often overlooked by the rest of the engineers, Hook on occasion admired the cunning and brilliance of the Decepticon air commander. The former scientist was nowhere near his own genius of course, but a worthy second. 

_And at least_ ** _you_** _know when to be silent_  he thought with growing affection as he turned back to the monitor. Megatron had specifically ordered that he not prioritize the seeker’s recovery, but Hook knew well enough that it would be a far worse punishment to force him back online and into menial toil. In another rare moment of self serving prodigy he’d created a subroutine for creating what the humans called “dreams” and Hook himself had only found that out during one of many repairs when he questioned the seeker on the anomaly during a routine scan. A true idiot savant. _Though far more idiot than savant._  He shut the computer down, leaving the preprogrammed drone to see to the rote upkeep while he recharged. He supposed he could leave the dolt to his dreams, if only for one night.

 

 

The fourth night he encountered the black and purple seeker in the laboratory was after a prolonged absence he suspected was due in part to Starscream’s ongoing campaign to instill more discipline in the seeker ranks. One day, the air commander might lead a finely honed regiment, but as long as the coneheads and occasionally Skywarp were part of the main body... well he could always dream. 

 

He almost started at the near explosion as Skywarp teleported in, clearly inebriated, the energy signature stronger than usual. He practically buzzed and Hook affected a pain expression: no mean feat given his particular cranial and facial structure.

 

“Hey Hook!” he practically chirped, once again leaning recklessly against the console holding the greatest engineering puzzle of the ages. “Thrust got a hold of this disc...” He dropped his voice theatrically, and Hook couldn’t help but smile however briefly at the picture he presented. “S’got humans... interfacing.” He... giggled? and there was no hiding the naked reaction by the constructicon. It was an odd blend of shock, disgust, and... a strange amusement that the other would actually think that he... would...

 

“D-did you really just ask me to accompany you to watch hominids in a primitive messy mating ritual?!” he sputtered, almost -literally- tongue tied. 

 

“You ever see it before?” he asked with another titter and Hook curled a lip component in disdain. If their other social customs were anything to go by he was almost certain he’d rather remain in blissful ignorance. “It’s... it’s like watching two sharkticons duke-ing it out. They scream and moan and there’s fluids and they... they touch! Like everywhere!” His optics danced and Hook could sense the excitement. He felt an odd irritation as he stopped looking at the mech who seemed to think they were becoming more than mere comrades. He huffed indignantly, focusing once more on the screen. 

 

“I assure you, I have far better things to do with my time than engaging in such debauchery.” He missed the look of disappointment on Skywarp’s face as fleeting as it was. The seeker’s mind a constant whirlwind, his thoughts easily flit away.

 

“You ever... wonder?” the jet asked suddenly. “What’s it’s like?” 

 

“What?!” he exclaimed, whirling, only to find the other standing far closer than was appropriate. He took a step back with flustered anger. “What are you doing?!” he shrieked, practically falling over himself to get out of the way. He felt his own system respond to the static charge and it was... unnerving.

 

“Never ‘faced with a dirtkisser before,” Skywarp said leaning in and found himself on the wrong end of a blaster. 

 

“And you won’t tonight, either,” the engineer answered furious. “I suggest, flyboy, that you exit post haste or you won’t have optics to watch your filthy human pornography.”

He lowered the weapon as Skywarp turned practically unfazed, finding himself far too distracted for the master project. 

 

“Come back when you’re thinking clearly,” he muttered, pushing past the smirking jet. He didn’t even realize the unconscious invitation he’d issued as Skywarp eventually followed on foot. The last time Skywarp had attempted an inebriated teleportation he had to be extracted from the wall of the base. 

 

 

The fifth night he encountered the black and purple seeker in the laboratory, the other was thoroughly unapologetic for the previous evening. He hardly expected any different.

 

“You missed a crazy show,” Skywarp announced by way of greeting as he appeared in what he’d claimed as his usual spot, aft against the large console. 

 

“I’m going to need that end tonight,” Hook answered, ignoring the bait. Skywarp shrugged, and looked up at the large display. 

 

“That vector is off,” he said suddenly, brilliantly, and Hook turned and goggled at him as if he’d grown another head. “What?” Skywarp, asked dumbly, and Hook merely continued to stare for what seemed an eternity. He said nothing before turning back to the display, changing the parameters and watching the model make a leap, that much closer to the drawing at hand. “You gonna pay attention to me now?” the seeker asked almost petulantly and Hook scoffed. 

 

“Now that you’ve earned it,” he said saving the program. “Tell me, flyboy,” he asked as the screen went dark, “Are you really a genius or a moron with an occasional insightful hiccup in your processors?” Skywarp smirked, strutting that cocky seeker walk.

“Well...” he began, drawing the stupid human language out in that maddening inefficient way the speech lent itself to. “I’ll tell ya... for a price...”

 

“A price is it?” he asked, innate curiosity getting the better of him. As Skywarp closed the distance and he could feel the resonation between the two like energy signatures, he held his ground. He was no coward, and refused to be caught off guard this time. Whatever idiocy the other was going to suggest, he refused to back down. He was ready for anything.

 

“Kiss me.”

 

Except that.

 

“K-kiss you?” he blurted out stupidly, inarticulate, his glossa feeling suddenly thick in his mouth as the words forced out of his vocal processors. A crude suggestion for recreational interfacing was one thing, but to suggest something so... so base, so unthinkable - so human. Their oral cavities existed to imbibe energon and occasionally came into the speech of other species but for... that?! Nonetheless he remained rooted to the floor, a small part of him wondering just what such a mad experiment would entail. Well frag, he was no coward. He was a scientist, a seeker of knowledge- whatever that knowledge entailed. Steeling himself, his silver tongue failing him, he managed a terse nod.

 

“Pucker up,” Skywarp said and as Hook opened his oral cavity to protest the ridiculous line, Skywarp moved in.

 

Nothing could have prepared him for the near system shock as arms encircled his torso. His entire body felt as if it were buzzing, the like charge of the other’s internal circuitry thrumming insistently against him own and he could feel the the fluids circulating wildly, the electrons excited and agitated. His internal systems whirred, and the tactile and pressure sensors just beneath the surface of his derma-plating were singing with.... pleasure? The capacitors seemed to fill up and spill out with a foreign energy, and he felt so... hot all of a sudden, feeling tremors as his processors warred and nearly locked up. And then Skywarp’s lip components pressed to his own, and as the slightly softer metal gave with the pressure, his mouth slackened to vent finding nothing but a twin heat as the jet kissed him deeper. It was undignified. Hooks arms were trapped against the seeker’s cockpit shaking. It was sloppy. The warm mechanical lubricants from their mouths intermingled and smeared around their lip components as glossa met, tasted, and denta clicked rather awkwardly.

 

It was perfect.

 

He finally felt himself released and almost fell as his mobility subroutines crossed and nearly shorted his circuitry. He clutched the table, panting, glossa absently tasted the faint remnants of the other’s lubricant around his mouth. As awkward as the vestigial appendage often felt in his once blissfully empty oral cavity, he certainly appreciated the finer subtleties of being able to taste things: Skywarp in particular. It should have been identical to his own but somehow the seeker tasted... different. He licked again, and pressed fingers to his lip components dumbly. That was... 

 

_“Equilibrium,”_  he said in their own language, none of the human words seeming to properly convey what it meant to resonate in such tandem with another inorganic being. 

Skywarp, for his own part looked similarly affected, optics practically glowing as he looked at Hook, seeming to see him for the first time.

 

“Primus...” he hushed, seeming to regain himself far faster than the other, looking excited, eager, and almost innocent. “Let’s do that again!” he said about to swoop in again. Hook scrambled away, still attempting to recover.

 

“Answer the question first,” he demanded, finally feeling his internal components reaching a stable temperature. Skywarp seemed to be examining him, as if seeing for the first time. He looked almost disappointed.

 

“Slag, you just had to have wheels...”

 

“The question,” Hook pressed, torn between offense and aggravation.

 

“Oh yeah...” Skywarp drawled as if remembering suddenly the entire purpose behind the... experiment. Hook resisted the urge to smack him. He wasn’t entirely sure that’s where the action would end. The jet thought about it really. Okay, so there wasn’t a whole lot to think about. There never was. And under the constructicon’s scrutiny, he simply shrugged.

 

“I dunno,” he said with rare honesty and as Hook prepared to toss aside all dignity and lunge with a snarl, Skywarp gave an infuriating wave and teleported out.

 

 

The sixth night he encountered the black and purple seeker in the laboratory, he couldn’t help but notice the other had taken their previous dalliance as carte blanche to... touch him. Vaguely unsettled when the other ran light fingers over his arm, he’d accustomed himself to the unsolicited exploration, as always fixated on the dual display. Adjusting the vector had helped but... the ultimate solution still seemed to be alluding him. He was aware it was nothing but an illusion, but even an illusion must have a basis in science! He heard a faint tapping, and lurched as the tap grew to a more insistent thump, and he realized Skywarp had been poking one of his wheels.

 

“They don’t have sensors, you infantile spore,” he growled, turning to look at the exploring mech.

 

Skywarp only grinned. 

 

“That was a good one,” he complimented and Hook fought down the urge to throttle him.

 

“If you’re looking to cause more mischief tonight, the experiments are over there,” he said with a dismissive wave of his arm. He kept his optics on Skywarp, in case the other decided that poking at his wheels wasn’t enough. 

 

“How do you stand those things?” Skywarp shuddered as he stepped back. 

 

“I could ask you the same question,” Hook replied loftily with a flick to a brilliant black wing.

 

“Ow! Hey, watch it! These things  **have**  sensors! Sensitive ones. ‘Sides... don’t wanna damage the merchandise, right?” He winked.

 

“Your newfound penchant for human idioms is duly noted,” the crane answered baldly, shrugging him off. “And to answer your query, I find this alt mode to be far more practical for our purposes.”

 

“You’d look better as a jet.” 

 

“I’m well aware of the aesthetic shortcomings this alt mode imposes,” came the icy response. He almost jumped straight up in the air as an invasive digit wormed its way past the large rubber tire and into a rather sensitive juncture near his elbow. Skywarp snickered, and stroked the wires that seemed to curl toward the pleasurable touch. With an impressive show of willpower, Hook slapped the hand away.

 

“How am I supposed to be seen with a ground pounder..?” The seeker grumbled rubbing his hand. 

 

“Excuse me?” 

 

“You have six wheels!  **Six**!” he exclaimed. “You’re... you’re so boxy. You’re pedes are flat!” He clutched his helm dramatically and Hook was about to bodily throw him from the lab when he heard the pitiful, “How am I supposed to show off a lover that looks like you?!” he yelled as if the constructicon’s appearance was a carefully contrived affront to him personally.

 

Lover? Well that was certainly news to him...

 

“I would hardly classify a brief ill conceived oral contact as anything other than sheer madness,” he retorted “Now if you’ll excuse me-” He pushed past the other about to write this entire mess off as complete and utter nonsense. Whatever insanity had gripped him these past few decacycles needed to end right-

 

Oh.

 

Before he could process what was going on, Skywarp had grabbed him and was doing that... mouth.... thing.... right, kissing! Again he could feel the other’s energy signature intermingling with his own, the low underlying static charge building between them from a faint thrum to an insistent buzz. The viscous remains of energon passed between them, and in spite of himself, Hook’s vocal processor’s made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a human moan. He squeaked a few times in Cybertronian as well. The seeker didn’t end things nearly so quickly this time. His glossa was everywhere, lapping at the sheen of mechanical lube coating his palette, swapping it out for his own. Not nearly as awkward as the first time, their denta didn’t meet, and he tilted his head to the side, their mouths sealed together much nicer, and in spite of himself, his own glossa met Skywarp’s in a sloppy wet dance. It was strange to feel another attempt to eat his mouth, but at the same time the primal exchange of fluids was thrilling in a rather obscene way.

 

He reached up, silently cursing as his arms managed an awkward embrace around the jet’s air intakes. Their bodies, he realized, were not well suited for intimate contact of this nature. Ah but the arms snaked around his torso well enough and the addictive tactile sensations were more than enough as their bodies clanked together rather noisily. When Skywarp finally disengaged and he found himself absently following that heated mouth with a final lap to his grinning lip components he was angry with himself for being so weak. He’d never considered himself to be a particularly sensual creature; interfacing held little interest for him, far inferior to intellectual pursuits that challenged the mind, tested him and teased like a... He looked at the undeniably attractive seeker, the word lover passing through his wayward thoughts far more meaningful. And as he considered and turned over possibilities and possible... experiments, Skywarp spoke, voice thick with desire.

 

“C’mon, my circuits are gonna burst...” He reached out, tracing the constructicon’s chassis with lusty deliberation. “‘member Sunstorm? Poor fragger had a meltdown cause he wasn’t getting any...”

 

“That’s a foolish urban legend,” Hooks answered. “The radioactive isotopes in his core were unstable and- Why am I having this asinine conversation with you?!” He slapped the hand away having found a far more... interesting pursuit to focus on. He heard the annoyed huff of ventilation and a grumbled “can’t blame a guy for trying,” when he turned back to the screen closing out the programs. 

 

“We should... explore this possibility further,” he said practically purring, his rapid change of thought leaving the jet behind. “Our bodies are obviously ill suited for such primitive intimate pursuits but... what would it be like to get the full... earthly experience shall we say?” The understanding seemed to dawn rather rapidly, and again Hook wondered about the selective nature of the other mech’s idiocy. 

 

“You wanna... do it like ‘primitive hominids’?” he teased, throwing Hook’s words back at him.

 

“For the pursuit of science,” the crane answered loftily, almost having convinced himself. “To better understand the enemy... yes... exactly,” he murmured to himself, already practicing the flowery speech he’d be delivering to Lord Megatron to convince him of the same. “Of course if you’re not interested I’m sure Scrapper could be convinced to assist me-”

 

“Frag no!” Skywarp protested with unusual heat and Hook turned to look at him. “I mean... if there’s anything worse than _one_ charged up dirtkisser, it’s _two_...” Hook turned back again to hide the pleased smirk as his mind worked overtime.

 

 

The seventh night he encountered the black and purple seeker in the laboratory he stared at the two human males for a good klik before regaining his wits. 

 

“Dare I ask what was going through your mind when you... commandeered these two specimens?” he asked ignoring the larger human’s blubbering. Skywarp shrugged, having grown particularly fond of that terribly human gesture.

 

“You said you got everything worked out but the final human parts, right? Took fraggin’ forever to get these flesh creatures.”

 

“You got two males,” Hook observed curiously. 

 

“You got a problem with that, tin man?” the smaller asked stepping forward fear giving way to indignation. Hook looked to Skywarp as if the human hadn’t spoken.

 

“We’re attempting to recreate the human sexual experience and you brought me two males.” He was clearly annoyed. “What use could these two possibly have?!”

 

“Hey they were doin’ it!” Skywarp said defensively. “I saw ‘em!”

 

Looking down again in disbelief he finally decided to address the two.

 

“You, with the dark fur. You were engaging in a mating ritual with the larger one?” Said larger one seemed to be calming down, the completely surreal situation bringing him back down. The dark headed man Hook addressed crossed his arms looking up.

 

“My  **boyfriend**  and I were fucking, yes,” he answered defiantly as if daring the ‘con to object.

 

“Patrick,” his well muscled partner hissed in warning.

 

“Fucking?” Hook queried looking to his comrade.

 

“You know... gettin’ it on... inserting slot A into Tab B...” Hook looked almost exasperated throwing his hands up muttering about human idioms.

 

“He was sticking his dick in my ass Decepticon, are we done here?” Patrick asked. The Decepticons were hardly known for showing any interest in humans beyond collateral damage after all. He was still wondering even now why they’d been dragged from the city. last time he checked the Autobots didn’t have a vested interest in gay rights...

 

“That seems terribly unpleasant...” Hook said half to himself, glaring at Skywarp who tactlessly informed the human “We’re horny and we’re trying to figure out-”

 

“How to sensorially simulate the human sexual experience,” Hook cut in through the vulgar explanation almost embarrassed. “Why did you bring me two males?!” he hissed again to Skywarp and the two hominids exchanged an almost amused look.

 

“Our bodies are all the same inside... makes sense to get two humans the same way, right?” And he couldn’t fault the logic. 

 

“Very well,” he addressed the flesh creatures again. “Remove your outer coverings and engage in this... fucking as you call it.” He turned to the long table in the lab which contained most of his instruments searching for one of the rare human syringes and the adaptor so he could use it to inject the sensory nanites.

 

“Oh hell no, I am  **not** -” He paled, looking up at the laser aimed at him from Skywarp.

 

“That’s funny,” Hook said as he prepared the needle. “You actually thought you had a choice.” Patrick’s expression was torn between fear and anger at his companion as he began to undress. No one was ever going to believe this. He wasn’t even sure he believed it himself.

 

“Marcus, so help me you are never picking our destination for date night ever again.”

 

 

The eighth night he encountered the black and purple seeker in the laboratory said jet was disgustingly buoyant and thoroughly amped up. 

 

“I dunno how you got Buckethead’s okay on this, baby, but you’re a fraggin genius!” the engineer twitched at the human endearment as it seemed as if they were falling so far away from the creatures they used to be. Whether Lord Megatron acknowledged it or not this world was changing them little by little. He shook his head. 

 

“I trust the sensory implants are going well?” he asked.

 

The smirk Skywarp shot him bordered on obscene. 

 

“Oh yeah. You got no idea...” Hook felt an odd stirring where the sensors had been hardwired into his own synapses. They’d collected all the data they needed from the human males and creating a comparable network was... tedious but thrilling. He almost didn’t believe it when Lord Megatron gave the okay to the infiltration project. Surely the gladiator could see the subtle influences of the appropriated human culture throughout the ship. Contraband like film and music were running rampant, Rumble and Frenzy even going so far as to be reprimanded for fighting over a piece of graphic human literature. They’d never been forced to interact in such ways with another species before and after all, the Autobots were the enemy, the flesh creatures mere background, collateral damage.

 

Not for the first time he wondered why he had seized so madly upon this experiment. Ah, but for all they remained stagnant for so many millions of years, if they were to survive they needed to adapt and evolve. And he’d studied the nanites already working to more fully integrate the Frankensteined parts into their frames. As he examined the well formed seeker body, he felt an odd heat pooling near the juncture of his legs in response to the aesthetic approval his optic sensors were transmitting.

 

“You feel it, don’t you?” the jet asked.

 

Unable to help the stupid question, Hook asked suddenly, “Do you feel that... when you look at me?” It was stupid. He was aware of how unpleasant his alt mode was, and Primus if his own... paramour didn’t remind him several times a day about the ugly rubber tires...

 

“Yeah,” Skywarp said, vocal processors unmistakably thrumming with lust. He stepped forward. “Weird, ain’t it? You look like that... but... the sensors weren’t so hot... not even around Screamer.” Ever the hedonist, he trailed light fingers over Hook’s facial  dermaplating. “C’mon let’s do that kissing thing again.”

 

“We... we don’t need to touch anymore,” the crane protested unusually flustered feeling the white hot flare from what humans might term his loins. “We... we exchanged the access codes you can-”

 

“S’better when I’m touching you,” Skywarp said carefully, skillfully angling his head so his mouth could reach Hook’s neck. He wondered for a crazy moment if the seeker hadn’t been practicing.

 

He was about to protest that the other couldn’t possibly know that when this was the first time they had been... together in such a fashion but that ache... that slagging ache was so persistent. He knew intellectually that it was nothing but a careful deception of their own synapses and neural processes but it was so...  **real**  that his hand stole down massaging the flat expanse of metal, giving a hiss as he realized how truly adaptive and intuitive the nanites had been to fully integrate the new hardware. He felt his back arch and his other hand dug into Skywarp’s arm. His internal fans were whirring loudly and he panted to cool the fire that raced through his circuitry. It was insane. He’d never felt so charged, never felt such heat surge through him. Interfacing itself was little more than a hardwired feedback loop between their cables but this was... this was heat and fire. This was passion and tactile sensations and wet on his neck and a pulsing throbbing ache that made him almost believe he was... organic.

 

There was an undignified squeak as his internal voltage spiked and he heard Skywarp - when had the seeker started pressing against his leg?- groan softly, shuddering against him. He almost collapsed as his systems warred to try and recalibrate. This experiment had gotten far too out of control and the scientist was awed. The cold unfeeling creature of stone was terrified.

 

“Next time... let’s use the access codes,” Skywarp husked and all he could do was nod dumbly.

 

 

The ninth night he encountered the black and purple seeker in the laboratory he fired an angry shot from the laser blaster that narrowly missed the black and white head.

“You miserable, juvenile, treacherous, flyboy!” Hook yelled firing again. The fact that said flyboy only laughed, teleporting out right before each of his shots connect was not helping his ire in the slightest. “I should have known it was a mistake to trust you with such intimate dangerous knowledge!” Blast. “I should’ve have known that a petty thug completely lacking in impulse control-” blast “of any sort, completely amoral!” blast “completely thoughtless!” blast “ **would do this**!”

 

He was panting, this time in complete fury as it seemed the teleporter had disappeared altogether. He lowered the weapon for an instant, and tensed when he felt arms on him. No, that wasn’t possible, the Hook in the back made it near physiologically-

 

He whirled around jerking his hand back with a hiss as the weapon was shot from his grip.

 

“Another of your dirty tricks,” he growled, facing the mech, following the trajectory.

 

“Dunno why yer so mad. No one even noticed.”

 

“No one else,” he spat sucking at the wound on his hand, “was the victim of one of your stupid little jokes.”

 

“Aww c’mon,” he wheedled walking over to the crane. “You looked hot... wanted to take you right there...”

 

“I’m never going to live this down,” Hook lamented. “Writhing against the console like some sort of primitive organic in the throes of-”

 

“But you **were** , baby-”

 

_“Don’t call me that!”_  he exclaimed, falling back on the comforting ancient language when he was feeling out of control. The beeps and pulses relaxed him almost instantly. They were familiar, safe. And he could speak as a creature born of logic and cold metal and not so... hot, out of control and passionate. Surely Primus could never have intended for his chosen conquerers to be so...  _“Disgraceful,”_  He said at last, looking away. 

 

It was humiliating to say the least. It was bad enough that the black jet had seen fit to interrupt him constantly during the day for some sexual deviance or the other, but at least until today he’d had the good sense to keep it behind closed doors.

 

He’d reluctantly agreed to the exchange of access codes and he couldn’t say that he objected to the primary benefit; interfacing was never so intense. But he _should’ve known that Skywarp’s penchant for ill conceived trickery would ultimately win out over whatever shreds of consideration he had for the one who... well whatever._

_The massive lab they stood in had been crowded earlier that day and Hook gave a tiny shred of thanks the lower echelons hadn’t been present. Megatron was going over their next plan to break the Autobot defenses, and Scrapper was showcasing one of the weapons they’d developed. Even now, he’d been so distracted and consumed in the past few decacyles he couldn’t remember what the thing was even called. And as Megatron consulted with Starscream over the prototype he’d felt it. It was subtle at first, but he shot a look to Skywarp who wasn’t even looking at him. He shrugged off the phantom caress, forcing himself to pay attention._

_And there it was again, the hot sticky mouth on the sensitive cords he knew Skywarp would normally never be able to access. Optics hazy, he could still see the “innocent” mech feigning rapt attention to Starscream’s analysis and normally he’d be up there hotly debating every seeming critique but he was so... hot. He shifted, knowing he couldn’t touch, praying that this was the extent of the stupid display and the sensations retreated allowing him pause. He put a hand on the console to steady himself, the brief touch soon turning to an audio sensor grinding screech when Skywarp did **that**._

_The seeker was always the first to insist the neural trickery, the optical illusions were nothing without actual contact, but it seemed he found the squeaking mech too much of a temptation to resist. He glanced over again, cursing. He knew, logically, that the image of Skywarp stroking a phantom metal phalange that didn’t exist to be impossible; especially since none of them paid him any mind. But with unrestricted access, his processors and own optic sensors were telling him that what he was seeing was in fact very real, and he felt that awful stir and pulse and he was thankful that the fraggin thing only existed in their own sensory manipulations, because there’d be no hiding his... arousal otherwise._

_“You okay?” Mixmaster asked with a faint titter, and forcing himself to standing erect, wishing the manipulative flyboy would drop dead from the glare alone, he nodded faintly. Megatron, annoyed at being interrupted continued with a final dark expression. He was about to excuse himself when it came again. This time it was more than a mere mouthing, it was a tease to that sensitive juncture the seeker had discovered and he absently banged his arm on the console. It was stronger this time, more insistent, and he went to offline his vocal processors so no one would noticed the undignified squeak. But he couldn’t. Scavenger looked at him then curiously and he waved him away, one leg trembling just so as he bit back the vocalization._

_He heard in the distance, in some secondary part of his audio processors the familiar self aggrandizing drone of Megatron’s latest scheme. He could hear the familiar objection from Starscream and the angered counter from the gladiator, but more importantly, he could hear Skywarp in his head whispering some nearly incomprehensible human filth. Half of it made no sense either logically or physiologically and yet he found himself responding just the same. He twisted a digit on his hand rather painfully in an attempt to distract himself from the pseudo hands on his chassis, and the daring nigh on unthinkable suggestion to mix interface with whatever this was. Skywarp gave a particularly sadistic brush to his internal cables and he screamed, “Primus, yes!” in spite of himself._

_He knew everyone was looking in that moment, some knowing, some not. Megatron’s expression flickered with a brief curious confusion, before seizing on the outburst that suited his purposes just fine._

_“I’m glad to know that there are still those present who appreciate my methodology,” he said with a faint smirk to Hook’s complete and utter mortification. Primus, he’d just screamed to the heavens a positive rejoinder and he couldn’t even remember what the leader was even talking about. Recovering quickly, and drawing himself up as only he could, in spite of the wild surges through his circuitry, he answered, vocals only slightly compromised and strained._

_“Of course, my Lord you would not lead us were your carefully crafted strategies anything less than superb,” And he thought he noticed a suspicious look from the air commander, but all too soon the expression was merely... searching._

_And as Megatron turned back to the upcoming assault and the upgrades to the fusion cannon, the engineer turned to Skywarp, look promising death even with the visor obscuring most of his facial features. The seeker had merely chuckled softly and waved to him._

 

“Yer so fuckable...” Skywarp said breaking the spell of remembrance. Hook punched him. Or at least that was the intent when the quick jet caught his wrist and sent him flying. He landed on his aft, turning, on his knees with a snarl. “That’s how I like seeing you, baby~” Skywarp answered with hands on his boxy shoulders keeping him from rising. Hook looked up furious.

 

“Unhand me you ill bred mongrel!” Primus this was dangerous. Far too dangerous, he realized, his systems already picking up, that heat, that damnable heat rendering him almost helpless with desire.

 

“You don’t really want me to do that, do you?” Skywarp teased and the hateful expression only increased tenfold, intermingled with a delicious portion of excitement. “I can smell it on you,” he said, fingers digging and kneading.

 

“You don’t smell anything you liar,” he fired back automatically but then his olfactory sensors too caught it. What the humans would call pheromones but it wasn’t that vile stench of mammalian hormonal secretions but... something far more heady and enticing. He could feel the anger warring with desire almost violently as the sweet hot oil and warm mechanical lube hit his senses.

 

He reached up, putting a hand on the seeker’s hip, hating how vulnerable and slavish he was in this position but-

 

“Suck it,” came the order and he could feel the subtle touch as his access codes were breached and through the wireless connection, in front of his optics where once was nothing but smooth white metal was the elongated cylinder and he whispered almost pained, “It’s not really there you idiot.”

 

“But it’s real.”

 

And that was the crux of it there, he realized as he wrapped a hand around the nonexistent piece, his compromised tactical sensors telling him yes there was a hot, thick... something and as he opened his mouth, he too accessed the other’s neural processors and heard the audible groan as Skywarp suddenly saw the same image being thrust upon him and clutched his helm, forcing his head down, forcing those parted lip components to the smooth white metal. And while anyone observing might have thought them insane, it was far more real than the data exchange of interface, far more real than the wireless tease. And he was lost, gone, forever fallen from grace. He was doomed.

 

 

The tenth night he encountered the black and purple seeker in the laboratory the jet wasn’t alone. He also used the door instead of teleporting in and as the unwelcome intruder came strutting arrogantly behind him his tone was cold.

 

“What are you doing here, Starscream?” he asked, the temperature in the room dropping. His visored gaze flickered between the two seekers, his guard up as he quickly ended the program. The red jet paid him little mind, stalking around the lab like a graceful predator, as if the entire world was his. Hook stepped away from the console. “I asked you-”

 

“I didn’t find any cerebro shells or other external mind control devices on my wingmate,” the seeker replied, absently playing with a model of Cybertron on one of the tables.

 

“I don’t believe I appreciate what you’re implying,” Hook answered frostily. He looked at Skywarp furiously. “Why did you bring him here?”

 

“Didn’t really bring him so much as he-”

 

“And yet,” Starscream continued as if he were the sole point of conversation in the room, “He’s been following you around, constantly distracted, watching you, and down to that little... display in the lab like some slavish quadruped. Don’t think I didn’t see whatever was going on between the two of you: even if the rest were fooled.” He set the model down, red optics looking across the room at the constructicon. “I want to know why.”

 

The engineer laughed then and Starscream bristled, raising his voice annoyed. 

“You have far too much bulk, your pedes are offensive, that... that thing on your back is a pain to my optic sensors and those... those  **tires** , those rubber monstrosities...” His gaze was piercing, accusatory. “And yet, this idiot seems completely convinced that there exists no more desirable creature in this miserable lot than you.”

 

The seeker stood straighter, wings seeming to shift imperceptibly with that innate odd almost human coquettishness. And watching the stunning jet, that asinine human filth he’d heard playing from one of the intercom systems couldn’t help but flicker through his processors.  _“...All the boys and all the girls are begging to if you seek Amy...”_ And it dawned on him then, how horrifying, how devastating to the ego it must be to find one on base who’d rather lie with himself.

 

He couldn’t help but laugh again to the air commander’s aggravation and Skywarp had to intercede before shots were fired.

 

“Perhaps,” Hook offered arrogantly, “Your wingmate looks for more in a lover than simply... an attractive body with little else to offer.”

 

“You miserable-”

 

“Screamer,” Skywarp said, holding the other back. 

 

“Heat,” Hook remarked seriously, in a lofty lecturing tone. “It is nothing more than a biological function. We took such one dimensional factors as appearance out of the equation. It’s a marvel in Cybertronian bioengineering.” And Primus if the Science Academy wasn’t in shambles he could almost see the accolades... “It’s a response to touch, taste...” He couldn’t help but look at Skywarp again as he held the other back and that odd surge was there again.

 

“Frag,” Skywarp swore, picking up on it.

 

“You see,” Hook answered with a shrug and Starscream’s optics flashed, watching the both of them.

 

“Your energy signature’s hardly changed,” he accused.

 

“S’not that, Screamer,” Skywarp answered for him, releasing his hold practically running over to the crane. “It’s... can’t you smell it?” he asked, a hand already running up and down Hook’s arm. 

 

“You’re... you’re touching him!” came the shrieking, appalled observation. Hook pushed him away, holding him at arms length, body posture, stance, promising everything. 

 

“You said you saw no point in our research when I made my proposal to Lord Megatron. But the evolutionary implications... are so far reaching. The nanites, the extra sensors have adapted in ways I never imagined creating an entire new network, new subroutines. Interfacing? A few over clocked moments of feedback... can’t even hope to compete.  This is... so much more.”

 

“I want it.”

 

The engineer stilled as he faced him, Starscream’s expression in that moment perfectly practiced and unreadable.

 

“You are aware,” he began cautiously, “that the system is useless without another complimentary...”

 

“I want it,” Starscream cut in again more firmly and Hook felt his systems almost run cold as the non request was followed up with, “Trust me.” Those were two words no ‘con should ever trust from another. But at the same time... what would it hurt to put the arrogant fragger on “equal” footing with the rest? Besides, he doubted the rest of the army would be so eager to debase themselves in such a fashion.

 

 

The eleventh night he encountered the black and purple seeker in the laboratory it was preceded by a familiar chuckle. He turned with a faint smile, the program running in the background, the model perfectly rendered on the massive display. He’d all but sequestered himself in the lab the last 2 stellar cycles primarily to avoid the madness that was occurring throughout the rest of the base. So much for his assumptions that Starscream would hardly convince the others to alter their programing.

 

“It’s still a total clusterfuck as you would say, is it not?” he asked, joining in the amusement, an unheard of swear word passing from his vocal processors. Ah, but he was doing a lot of things that were utterly out of character lately. There was a snort from the seeker as he walked over to look up at the impressive 3d rendering.

 

“Looks like you did it, baby,” he said leaning in to kiss the crane. Hook held up a hand, automatically responding with 

 

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

 

“You love it,” Skywarp answered with a smirk. Hook sighed.

 

“I suppose I have to hand it to our... illustrious air commander. He has, if nothing else proved that he is a veritable cornucopia of iniquity.” The jet laughed.

 

“I toldja. I think half the slag going on right now is cause of him. Buckethead’d be throwing a fit right now... ‘f he wasn’t caught up in it too.”

 

“I don’t doubt when all is said and done there will be... censure to say the least.”

 

“Nah. Too much has changed now. Can’t go back to what we were.” He leaned back on one of the operating tables idly. “I like it this way. Things’re a lot more fun around here.”

 

“Yes, that would be your main objective, wouldn’t it?” Skywarp quirked a brow ridge then at the statement curiously. 

 

“Ain’t that what it’s all about though? What’s the use of living forever if you don’t enjoy it?” He made a vague gesture to the screen. “Even that boring slag. You spend half your time holed up in here cause you like all that. I mean, why else would you-”

 

“Purpose.” Hook interrupted firmly. “For what use is an eternal life without purpose? There will always be questions and mysteries to solve. These miserable flesh creatures toil and research and desire everything we have. And yet with every one question answered there comes one anew. The quest for knowledge, is endless!” he finished, fans whirring softly with excitement. Skywarp laughed rather pleasantly, and Hook couldn’t help but notice that the sound was a far cry from the loud guffaw he usually assumed after a successful prank or the obnoxious snicker he reserved for Starscream’s periodic comeuppance. No, rather it was a happy, contented warm sound. It was a sound he never would’ve thought one of theirs was capable of affecting. 

 

“S’amazing how well your processes work with all that stuff up in your databanks,” he teased. The naiveté was almost endearing, Hook thought as he pulled up another of Earth’s great engineering brainteasers. Ancient theological tomes spoke of a tower built to reach the heavens themselves. With their technology of course, it was a problem for an easy few decacycles to while away the time. 

 

“As if one such as I can be bothered to remember every mundane inconsequential happenstance,” the crane scoffed as he begun to render the base. Violet and lime, those were always fitting complimentary colors...

 

Skywarp went unusually silent then and Hook turned to see if he was still leaning against the console. The expression was an odd one, and he was about to comment on the odd sense of melancholy when the seeker spoke again.

 

“You too, huh?” he asked with a shake of his head. Pausing in his work, the engineer was about to ask what he meant when Skywarp shoved off the console and continued. “Thought you of anyone would wanna... keep your head intact.”

 

“Intact isn’t quite the word I would use,” Hook answered. “Muddled down by unnecessary data is more like it. It’s... it’s unnatural to hold on to everything we’ve ever seen and done.” He couldn’t help the derisive laugh that escaped. “I mean really, do you think I’ve retained every asinine prank of yours I’ve borne witness to? The nightly defragmentation and cleanup is an essential part of who we are after all. Myself, Lord Megatron, you-”

 

“Not me.”

 

Optics flickering curiously and more than a little... disturbed, Hook regarded him as one might a throwback, a relic.

 

“Beg pardon? I don’t believe I heard that correctly, you cannot possibly-”

 

“Yup,” the jet answered with a rather comical tap to his helm. “S’all right up here. From start to finish, I ain’t never forgotten anything,” he said that bit rather proudly and it was all Hook could do to repress a shudder.

 

“That’s... that’s revolting!” he exclaimed.

 

“It’s wonderful.”

 

“No wonder it takes you ten kliks to get from a to b!” And really it explained so much. Too much. It was almost... infuriating. He had caught the rare flickers of manic genius, insight, sheer brilliance. When he allowed himself to think for just a moment of the wasted potential he just... didn’t understand. 

 

“Why?” he asked looking completely lost. 

 

“You remember... the beginning?” Skywarp asked in an oddly nostalgic voice and Hook couldn’t help the automatic scoff.

 

“Of course not.” There were hundreds, if not thousands, of memories he discarded as easily as an empty energon cube when they no longer served his purpose. His was one of the fastest, most efficient processors, and the thought of slowly losing his mind, his intellect to... well age really horrified him. That one would so willingly choose to lose their mind little by little was...

 

“It was the most amazing thing ever really. Can’t do a barrel roll or a nose dive... can’t 'face... can’t even well...” he trailed off with a small laugh. “Don’t think anything could ever be so... wonderful. When I took my first step... when I felt the ground beneath me and looked out and saw Cybertron. Before I could even figure out how to fly or speak and there was light where it was dark.” he was trembling faintly at the memory and Hook unthinkingly reached a hand out in the learned contact. The touch, so basic and instinctual amongst the flesh creatures they sneered at had to be taught, and there it was. He looked at his own hand stupidly as if the touch to Skywarp’s arm had happened independently of him. It was dangerous.

 

“It’s not all light and joy, you idiot,” he chastised softly. And truly it was a wonder he hadn’t suffered circuit break.

 

“Course it’s not,” Skywarp answered, and put his own hand over Hook’s. “You remember Acid Storm, right?” he asked so randomly and the engineer snorted. 

 

“That brightly colored imbecile that used to fly with you? Of course I-”

 

“Screamer doesn’t,” the jet commented looking up at some vague point at the ceiling. “Said it... said was too much to remember. Kinda like Gravedigger, right?” And at the blank stare he received, he merely looked at the crane almost pitying. “Guess you wouldn’t remember him... wouldn’t.... make sense, right?”

 

“It... it wouldn’t be logical to cling to... unpleasant data, no,” he agreed feeling so small and so... stupid all of a sudden.

 

“If I get slagged tomorrow... bet you’ll wipe me too right?” Hook was hard pressed to answer and felt an odd... something inside, and he wondered if it wasn’t yet another of those damnable subroutines the adaptive nanites had bridge to his core. He’d opened his mouth to answer in the affirmative but found that... it didn’t seem... right. 

 

“I... I don’t know,” he said honestly. Skywarp smiled at him, a far cry from the usual cocksure seeker grin but... oddly enchanting nonetheless.

 

“Would you remember me... if I asked?” came the strangely nervous query. Skywarp’s glossa absently ran over his lip components, and Hook looked at the other assessing. It was odd the ways they had changed since coming to earth. Lord Megatron and the others might not acknowledge it. Might never. But as he looked from the comely seeker face down to the odd way their hands intertwined and he knew, that despite what he might forget as inconvenience... he couldn’t turn a blind eye to this.

 

“Yes... yes I would.”

 

“Promise?” Skywarp asked almost slyly and Hook laughed. 

 

“Decepticons promise nothing, fool.” Haughty as ever, he slipped from the jet’s grip and went to boot the program back up. Skywarp, still smiling turned to leave in that moment teleporting away with another of those odd yet endearing little expressions. Hook decided then and there perhaps his time might be better spent devising a more efficient neuroprocessor. In the silence, he spoke softly to himself, in the still-comforting ancient language.  _“Yes... yes, I suppose I will.”_


End file.
